


As Long as you Like

by artsyUnderstudy



Series: Blackbird [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyUnderstudy/pseuds/artsyUnderstudy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few months after Cas finally comes home to Dean, the two have settled in comfortably together.  It's only after a botched date that Dean starts to worry he might not understand what Cas needs.</p><p>Timestamp for Blackbird Fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long as you Like

Dean padded through his living room, skirting around a backpack with clothes spilling out, a canvas case with half the neck of Jess' classical guitar poking out the unzipped edge.  He nudged it with his foot, out of the pathway and closer to the couch so Sam wouldn't fall and break something when he got up in a few hours.

Jess stirred on the couch, entrenched in her nest of blankets, hair poking over the edges, one small hand pulling them tighter around her as she slept.  Dean turned toward her for a second, reaching out and mussing up her hair.  She murmured something that could have been ‘good morning’ before Dean pulled the blankets over her one bare shoulder and then headed out of the room.

When he stepped into his bedroom, he felt himself smiling.  He couldn't help it, seeing that shock of dark hair against his pillows, Cas' long limbs splayed out across his mattress.  Firmly asleep, as well, which meant more to him than he could ever fully vocalize.

To be perfectly honest, for the longest time, Dean had genuinely thought that happiness was something for other people.  Something he'd never actually have.  Not in any real or lasting way.  Shit had just always been so complicated, it always went bad, and that was putting it pretty mildly.  He'd just always more or less been on his own, he'd even lost Sammy for a bit.  The near year and a half of turbulence and loss following the fire had nearly broken him completely.

Not just him.  It had nearly broken all of them.

But now, little more than ten months on the other side of things, it was funny how different his perspective was.  He couldn't help but blame some of it on the fact that Cas was curled up in his bed, and he had no plans of leaving.

Dean tempered the grin on his face into something softer, watching Cas a little longer before joining him.  He slid under the covers, and without prompt Cas reached out to wrap an arm around his waist.  Pulling him close.   They slotted together, face to face, legs tangled beneath the sheets.

"Noisy," Cas groused, pressing his nose to Dean's throat.  Dean chuckled, running his fingers through Cas' hair.  If Cas could purr, that's exactly what he'd be doing.  Instead it came out as a contented sigh, his whole body relaxing as Dean continued.

"Gotta work soon," Dean explained.  "Made coffee."

"There had better be enough for two," Cas said, his voice dry and low.  Dean rolled his eyes and tugged at his hair, hard enough to make Cas groan angrily.  "Stop that," Cas commanded, reaching up to clumsily swat at his hand.  "I liked what you were doing before better."

"Fuckin' pushy," Dean muttered, trying not to smile.

"Yes.  Now, continue or let me sleep."

"You were way less high-maintenance long distance," Dean teased, relenting and running his fingers through Cas' hair again.  It was getting long, the evidence of injury hidden beneath thick, dark waves.  Cas actually pulled back at the comment, though, opening his bleary blue eyes and frowning at him.  "Sorry, bad joke."

"Yes," Cas said quietly, his fingers finding the pendant around Dean’s neck, pulling at it.  Dean had never taken it off.  Cas had never asked him to.

Dean cupped his hand to the back of Cas' neck, his thumb brushing the hidden scar underneath thick hair.  Cas shivered, and Dean took a deep breath to stay steady. He pulled Cas' face toward his own, kissing him.  Cas probably wanted to put up a fight, but neither of them could do much but fall into it.  It was still too new, waking up with one another.  Knowing they could finally keep it.

"Happy you're here," Dean said in the space between their mouths, feeling how completely fucking inadequate it was and still embarrassed by the admission.  Cas seemed to understand, though, pushing Dean over onto his back, trailing his hand down across his hip.  "You know, right?" he breathed.

"Yes," Cas said, pressing their lips together one more time before climbing on top of him.

\--

The day was hard.  Some days were just like that.  Some days would just always be like that.

Castiel spent most of it alone, Dean at the shop and Sam out with Jess.  He was wound up, which he wanted to ignore, but the more he tried the more it scraped at him.  He latched onto meaningless things, a joke, really.  That was what his mind did, it held onto things better left shoved aside.  Let them burrow down inside him.  

He just didn’t want to be ‘high-maintenance’.  He’d been that to his family since he was small and he didn’t want to be that now.

He’d finally figured out how to work the stereo in the living room so he had Simon and Garfunkel playing on quietly in the background.  He hummed along, trying to will himself calm.  Standing in front of the stove, though, staring down at the ruined pot, the smell of burnt pasta making him wrinkle his nose, it was hard.  

He braced himself against the counter, tapping his fingers noisily before reaching for the wooden spoon.

The top layer looked fine, really.  It was just the bottom that was burnt.  As he spooned the food into a bowl, though, he noticed small black flecks mixed in with the white sauce.  His gut felt a little twisted up, his chest a little tight.  Unnecessarily so, for the circumstances.

God, he just wanted to make food for them.  How hard was that, really?

“Mmm, smells... tasty.”

Castiel looked back at the sound of Dean’s voice, light and playfully sarcastic.  His arms were streaked with oil, his hair a mess.

“It smells vile,” he corrected, turning around until his back was pressed against the counter, facing his grimy boyfriend.  Dean licked his lips, eyebrows raised, as he took in the mess.

“Nah,” Dean said, less than enthusiastically, placing a hand on either side of Castiel’s hips and boxing him in.  Dean nipped playfully at his neck before reaching around behind him to take some of the unburnt pasta still clinging to the spoon, bringing it to his mouth.  Castiel watched him attentively as he took a bite, his eyes going wide.

The effect was almost immediate.  Dean’s brow pinched, the corners of his mouth turned down.  Then, he started nodding helplessly, chewing so slow Castiel wondered if the food was even breaking under his teeth.  There was a smile, but it was a distressed looking smile, one small, pained humming noise before he finally swallowed with an audible gulp.

“That’s, uh,” Dean muttered, licking at his lips like there was something stuck to the roof of his mouth.  “What’s that flavor?”  Dean swallowed again, Castiel closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  “Strong.”

 “The stove was on too high, I think,” Castiel explained, grimacing.

“Right,” Dean said, visibly holding himself back from laughter.  Castiel pursed his lips and tried to look away, but then Dean nudged his chin with his knuckle.  “Dude, it… it’s fine.  I wanted to take you out anyway,” Dean said, his voice less pinched.  “The kids are gone till late.  We’re allowed to have some fun," he joked.

Castiel grinned a little, despite himself, as he felt Dean’s hand come up to cup his cheek, a kiss pressed to the other before pulling away.  Castiel watched him as he backed up toward the doorway.

“Lemme take a shower, you clean up.  Or you can leave it for Sammy, I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“I don’t actually think he will,” Castiel said seriously, narrowing his eyes.  Dean laughed out loud, approaching him again for another kiss.  This time on the mouth, a small, pleasant tug at his bottom lip.  Dean smelled like sweat and motor oil.  It was nice.  “Fine, okay,” Castiel muttered, pushing at him ineffectively.  “Get clean.”

“Kay.  Then hamburgers?” Dean asked, smiling against his mouth. “And a movie.”

“Yes, please,” Castiel said, trying to breathe evenly past the stone in his throat.

\--

Dean watched Cas’ hands.   The way they moved, sometimes just a fraction against the armrest, fist closed, and then open again.  An agitated, impatient twitch of muscle.  Dean ignored the movie, some B-grade action flick he’d stupidly insisted on knowing it wasn’t really Cas’ thing.  Because he was an awesome boyfriend like that.

Cas’ fist clenched again, thumb digging into the armrest, the vein in his hand pulsing.

“Hey,” Dean half whispered, voice gruff and hardly audible above the rumble of the theatre speakers.  He watched Cas’ shoulders tense, staring forward at the screen.  His eyes were narrowed, the light reflecting across his cheeks, very visibly trying to focus on the movie.  Dean slipped his hand over Cas’ wrist, squeezing it gently.  Cas went rigid at the touch before his fingers went slack.

“What?” Cas asked under his breath, eyes flickering over to Dean

“What’s up?” Dean replied, still watching him intently.  Something on screen flashed, the theatre lit up, a loud crash and an audible gasp from the other moviegoers.  Cas’ eyes never left him, focused even as he frowned.

“I’m watching this movie you insisted we see,” Cas said slowly, like he really didn’t understand the question.  “What’s up with you?”  Dean just grinned a little at his confused expression until someone behind them shooshed.  Dean rolled his eyes and shooshed sarcastically back at them.

"I uh," Dean said, focusing back on Cas who was still watching him for an answer.  He had a slightly pinched expression, a little thin at the edges.  "Nothing's up... you just seemed tense, man."

"I'm fine," Cas said, a little too quickly.  Before Dean could press the issue he heard another loud shoosh.  Annoyed, Dean grabbed a handful of popcorn, lobbing it over his shoulder.  He grinned at the distressed noise that followed.

“Asshole,” the voice muttered, any other comment drowned out by another loud roar from the surround sound speakers.

Dean ignored it and looked back at Cas, paling a little under his gaze.  Cas narrowed his eyes at him, but then he flipped his hand palm up so Dean could thread their fingers together.  Quietly, he traced Cas’ thumb with his own and tried to focus back on the movie.

“This is awful,” Cas whispered after a few minutes, leaning a little closer so their shoulders were pressed together.

“I know,” Dean sighed, “The preview was way more promising.  I’m pretty sure the short, goofy guy is more competent than this beefy jerkoff diesel-wannabe.  He’d be dead if moustache guy wasn’t such a terrible shot.”

“He doesn’t wear a seatbelt,” Cas said, staring at the screen as the beefy dude peeled out around another corner, bystanders throwing themselves out of the way.   “I find it very hard to believe he’d walk away from that last car crash with only one cut.  Especially with all that fire.”

Dean snorted and squeezed his hand, Cas smirking back before something hit the back of his chair, knocking him forward.  Dean whipped his head around to the sound of sniggering, grabbing another handful of popcorn for an attack and snarling through his teeth.

“Shut up,” the guy hissed, a single piece of popcorn hitting Dean square between the eyes.

Dean was about to upend the whole bucket onto the douchebag's head when he realized how tight Cas was holding his hand, and he turned to look at him.  Cas was staring angrily forward, slumped over in his seat and shoulders squared.  Dean dropped the popcorn back in the bucket and wiped his hand clean on his jeans before reaching out to run his fingers through Cas’ hair.  Cas closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Dean watched him for a moment before he let go of Cas’ hand, pushing away from the armrest so he could lift it up.  The barrier between them gone, Dean soundlessly wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulder and pulled him close.  Cas pressed his face against his neck, Dean trailing his fingers down across his cheek.

“You really okay?” Dean asked, now pretty sure the answer was no.

“Watch the movie,” Cas said quietly, his voice very terse.  Dean frowned at him.

“You wanna go?” He pressed, a little softer, feeling Cas’ stubble beneath his fingertips, the warmth of his skin.

“No.”

“I swear to god,” the guy behind them muttered, and Dean could feel the weight of his foot on the back of his chair.  This guy was one word away from getting the shit kicked out of him.  Dean ignored him, though, arm tight around Cas, watching as another explosion lit up the screen.

“We shoulda gone to see that penguin documentary you were talking about,” Dean muttered against the shell of Cas’ ear, pressing a kiss just below it.  He felt Cas shiver under the attention, humming in agreement as his shoulders relaxed just a little.

Dean smiled and kissed him again.

\--

The movie was nearly over.  It had to be.  They'd stopped the bad guys with less than a second to spare, which was ludicrous.  Castiel couldn't understand why they would simply have one button that could ruin their whole plan.  If they were really dedicated to the task they would have made it much harder.

Castiel tried to take a breath, tried to ease that ever-growing discomfort.  The proximity of the seats surrounding him, the dark, the unreasonably loud speakers that made his head ache.

Dean kept his arm around him, and he appreciated his closeness, his touch.  He really did.  But right then he felt boxed in.  He wanted space.  He took a deep breath and placed a small kiss on Dean's neck before pulling away, his muscles stiff.

"Wanna cut out early?" Dean asked, reaching over and taking his hand.  Castiel tried not to physically bristle at the touch.  "Cas, seriously, you okay?"

He used to be so much better about hiding this.

"Hey, shut the fuck up?  How hard is that?" The guy behind them growled, and Castiel could have anticipated the hit he felt to the back of his chair, but that did nothing to keep his heart from hammering wildly, panic and anger gripping at his throat.  His head knocked forward, and he felt dizzy for a moment, uneven.

"Hey!" Dean snapped, letting go of Castiel to round on the guy.  "Wrong fucking chair, dickhead."

"Why can’t you fags just make out instead of ruining the movie for the rest of us?"

Castiel shot up out of his seat.  He barely registered the surprised noise from Dean as he threw himself over the back of his chair, his hands grasping at the collar of the guy's shirt.  He wrenched him forward, hands gripping so tight he felt like he might break the skin in his own palms.

"What the hell?  What the hell gives you the right to use a word like that?" Castiel spat, watching the guy's eyes widen in fear.  His vision was a little crooked, his chest painful.  He was on the fringes.  He was about to fall.  "How can you treat people like they're less than human?"

His voice was shaking, he could hear it.  Barely.  Over the sound of blood pumping in his ears.

"Cas," Dean said, voice firm and far away.  There was a hand on his shoulder, and Castiel shook it off.  

“Answer me, damnit!”

“Dude, let go of me!” the guy replied, half angry and half terrified.

"Cas, look at me!" Dean said, and it cut through him.  Castiel took a deep, shaking breath, turning so he could see Dean.  Dean's mouth was pressed into a hard line, his eyes wide.  The anger twisted into regret, balled up inside him.  He felt ill.

"Let him go," Dean told him firmly.  He stared at Dean for a moment, his fingers twitching, eyes burning.  His chest hurt.  "You gotta calm down," he continued quietly, more worry in his voice than anger.  Castiel finally obeyed, his fingers going slack, the other guy speechless, backing up just to get away from him.  Castiel could feel eyes on him from every angle.

Without a word, Castiel pushed himself off the chair and shoved past Dean, set on finding an exit as quickly as possible.

\--

Dean barely heard the mutters, the odd sound of scattered applause.  He booked it down the stairs even as Cas disappeared around the corner.  Turning down the darkened hall, Dean almost pushed out of the theatre altogether, thinking Cas had already left.  Then, he saw him.  Pressed into the corner, back to the wall, shoulders hunched.  One hand over his chest.

He was breathing very hard, like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.  Taking a step forward, Dean reached out, prepared to pull him close.  Cas flinched near violently at the contact.

“Don’t touch me,” Cas snapped, trying to back up, ineffectively.  He was pressed flush against the wall.  “Please, don’t touch me,” he repeated, his breath short.  “Fuck, fuck…”

“Okay,” Dean breathed, backing up, hands elevated.  He tried to ignore the sting of the words, the painful twisting in his gut.  He wanted to ask what he was supposed to do, but Cas just slid back down the wall, his knees bent, halfway to the floor.  His hands were shaking, his eyes shut.  He was humming.

Shit.  He was having a panic attack.  This hadn’t happened…  shit… what was he supposed to do?  Dean just stared at him, not even realizing someone had walked up behind him until they spoke.

“Woah.  Is he okay?” a familiar voice asked.  Dean spun around, staring down at the guy who’d been sitting behind them.  

“Does he fuckin’ look okay?” Dean snapped.  The guy gave him a wounded, defensive look, but didn’t respond.  That was probably for the best, seeing as how Dean was itching for just one more reason to punch him in the jaw.  The other guy’s eyes flickered back and forth between him and Cas, his arms wrapped around his waist.  He had to be sixteen, tops.  He looked like he might be younger than Sam.

“I’m fine,” Cas said behind him, breaking the silence, his voice low and exhausted sounding.  Dean exhaled slowly.

“Look, I’m really sorry, alright?  That was a shitty thing to say.  I don’t usually –”

“You know,” Dean growled, cutting him off.  “Right now?  Don’t give a shit.  Just get the fuck away from me before I finish what he started.”

“Got it,” the kid said.  He glanced over Dean’s shoulder with a worried expression, and Dean could feel himself mirror it.  He was not doing this with this guy.  There was no fucking way. “Sorry, I’m gone.  Just… do we need to call someone?”

“No, just go,” Dean said, turning back to Cas.  The kid must have hesitated a moment, but then Dean heard him retreat, the light spilling into the hall from the opened door.

Cas was up against the wall.  He’d pushed himself upright again, his hand trembling as he pushed it through his dark hair.  Dean wanted… to touch him.  He didn’t know how to help him to the car without touching him.  He didn’t know why the idea of it now made him feel physically ill.  He couldn’t help but feel he’d made a huge fucking mistake.  

“Cas, can you get to the car?” Dean asked quietly, keeping space between them.  He watched Cas carefully for a few moments, just waiting.  Finally, Cas nodded, pulling himself away from the wall, his limbs pressed in against his body.  He moved stiffly, breathing out through parted lips.  He looked pale and his hands were still shaking.

Dean walked behind him until they made it out to the Impala, opening the driver side door to pop the locks.  Cas just sat in the passenger side, feet still outside the car on the concrete, hunched over so his face was nearly to his knees.  Dean watched as Cas ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends.

“Are you still –“

“Yes,” Cas answered tersely.

“Alright,” Dean said quietly.  

They sat in silence, the chill fall air pushing in through the open door.  After a while Dean reached down between the seats to his box of cassettes, picked out Zeppelin number four, sticking it in the tape deck.  He fast forwarded a little until the familiar soft guitar intro started to play, and Cas’ shoulders slumped.

“ _There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold_ ,” Dean sang, off-key and soft along with the music.  “ _And she's buying the stairway to heaven…_ ”

He watched as Cas turned at the sound, pulling his legs into the car and shutting the door.  Cas pressed his face to the window, reaching out between them, his hand resting on the center of the seat.  Dean pressed his lips together, watching those fingers curl slowly against the leather, Cas not saying a word.  

Taking a small breath, Dean steeled himself for a moment before he set his hand next to Cas’, their pinkies brushing.  When Cas didn’t flinch away, Dean moved further until he could hook his pinky and ring finger with Cas’, a small touch.  One he took greedily.  

He could still feel Cas trembling.

The song played out, Cas’ breath fogging the window as he mouthed the words.  Dean finally pulled their hands apart and took the wheel, eyes trained forward.  “Let’s go home,” was all he said before he pulled out of the space.

\--

The space between them was pronounced and uncomfortable. It widened when Dean didn’t follow Castiel to the bed, just watching from the doorway, arms crossed, face unreadable.  Castiel couldn’t think of anything to say, so he shucked off layers of clothing until he was in boxers and a tee.  Then he climbed onto the mattress.

“Need anything?” Dean asked quietly.

“Just tired,” Castiel answered, staring at his hands. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Dean told him.  Castiel waited, but Dean still didn’t come to the bed.  He looked up to see Dean place a hand on the doorknob.  Something in Castiel's stomach twisted.  “Just lemme know, I’m gunna…” Dean motioned his head toward the door.

“Yes, okay,” Castiel said slowly.  

Dean gave him a tired little smile before turning toward the door to leave.

Once he heard the door close, Castiel pulled the covers over his shoulders, knees tucked in against his waist.  It was quiet, dim evening light still seeping in through the curtains.  He stared over at the side table, once bare but now cramped with a small stack of books, his worry dolls propped up against an alarm clock.  His favorite statue of the Buddah, a smooth painted ceramic.  This space belonged to him, and it was growing.

The panic was gone but his body felt worn, exhausted like he’d just sprinted a mile.  Five miles.  Taking a deep breath, Castiel tried to ignore the empty space beside him.  Tried to focus on keeping himself calm.  He was too tired for anything else.

Eventually his body complied with his exhaustion, and he fell into sleep.

\--

It must have been hours later when he woke up.  The house was quiet, the room dark.  Castiel blinked slowly, turning onto his back and reaching out beside him.  The space was empty and cold.  Dean should have been to bed by now.  Castiel swallowed, turning toward the empty spot and pulling Dean’s pillow to his chest.  He closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to sleep, but then there was a small thump behind the door.

Castiel turned in time to see it pushed open, Dean shuffling in a little clumsily.  Castiel pushed himself up, blinking away the sleep in his eyes.  For a split second he was worried Dean had been drinking, but as he moved closer he just looked tired, his eyes bloodshot and lidded, hair a mess.

“Where were you?” Castiel asked.  Dean shrugged, moving to his side of the bed and staring down at the space.

“I was, uh… on the couch,” Dean explained.  He was still in his jeans, which he started to tentatively unbutton.  He avoided looking at Castiel as he did so.  “Couldn’t sleep… I have to work in the morning,” Dean continued, as if he needed good reason to want to sleep in his own bed.  

“Are you angry with me?” Castiel asked.  Dean looked up at him, then, his brow furrowed.  

“No, Cas,” Dean said.  “No.  I just… you needed space.”  He dropped his pants to the floor and stepped out of them.  Castiel frowned and stared.  “I didn’t…”

“Dean,” Castiel said, his voice low.  “Take your shirt off.”

“What?”

Castiel pushed himself up to a sitting position and hooked his fingers under the hem of his own shirt, pulling it up over his head.  The air hit his skin with a mild chill, and he felt goose bumps blooming over his bare shoulders.  Dean stared at him for a second before pulling off his own shirt.

“And your boxers,” Castiel said, already pressing down on the waistband of his own.  Dean nodded absently and did so, his soft, tired eyes watching the space where the sheets and clothes were pushed from Castiel’s legs.

“Get into bed,” Castiel told him, watching a shiver run through his body, over his pale, freckled skin.  Dean complied, climbing onto the mattress on his knees and lying down beside him.  There was a foot of free air between them and Castiel wanted it gone.

Silently, Castiel reached out to Dean, wrapping one arm around his waist and pulling them flush, on their sides and facing each other.  His bare skin burned where they connected, chest to chest, legs hooked together in the sheets.  Dean was stiff for a moment before he relaxed into it, his fingertips trailing down Castiel’s hips, around to the small of his back.  Dean breathed quietly against his skin, warm and slightly uneven. 

“Touch can be suffocating,” Castiel explained quietly, pressing a kiss to Dean’s collarbone.  Dean moved so Castiel could wrap both arms around him, one pinned beneath his shoulders, hand winding into his dusty brown hair.  “It’s not you, it wasn’t about you.”

“I know,” Dean said, sounding very much like a lie he was trying to force into truth.  “I just... I didn’t know what you needed from me.”

Castiel contemplated that a moment, feeling out Dean beneath his hands.  He traced his scars with his short nails, pressing against the smooth, pink skin.  He kissed him along the line of his throat, felt Dean's heartbeat quicken under his mouth.  

“Just don’t hate me,” Castiel finally said.  It was the one thing he was afraid of.

“Shut up,” Dean growled, pressing his nose to Castiel’s cheek, mouth and teeth grazing his heated skin.  “Think I could hate you for anything?  Especially this, it’s bullshit.”

“I was a burden to my family.  I don’t want to be that to you,” Castiel continued, feeling the weight of so many years, knowing now that it wasn’t his fault even if he was made to believe it was.  “I’m trying, I am getting... better.”

“Your family is a steaming pile, Cas,” Dean said, pressing their foreheads together, kissing his mouth so gently Castiel whimpered into it.  His hand found Castiel’s hair, and he ran his fingers through it.  Soothingly.  “I’d rather have you, okay?" He muttered against his mouth.  "I’ll take all of it.  I swear to God, you finally being here is the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.  I just wanna understand.  I gotta know your boundaries so I don’t step over them and make it worse.  I just wanna know what you need from me.  That’s all.”

“That’s kind of complicated,” Castiel smirked, leaning in to brush their lips together. 

“Yeah, well, people are complicated,” Dean said simply.

"Don't blame yourself,” Castiel told him.  “Please understand... it's hard for me to control how I respond to things when I'm like that."  He paused to kiss him, just once.  A light pressure.  "Sometimes I may want you close and other times I may just want to be alone.  I'll do my best to let you know.  Just... understand that it's never about you.  It has nothing to do with how I feel for you."

Dean closed his eyes at the words, his face coloring.  Castiel just watched him intently.

"Stupid of me," Dean grunted.  "Sorry -"

"No," Castiel interrupted, kissing him in the shadow of the word.  “Don’t do that.”

Dean couldn’t reply.  They stayed like that, another kiss, deeper this time, mapping each other out with touch and breath.  Dean took it all greedily, his tongue pressed to the seam between Castiel’s lips.  Castiel opened to him, feeling the remaining dredges of adrenaline from earlier pool in the center of his stomach, a warm and pleasant thrum.  He relaxed under Dean, pliant, weightless, and happy.  He was happy.  Dean made him so happy.

“I love you,” Castiel mumbled against his mouth.  Dean laughed bodily, holding him closer and nipping at his lips. 

“I know,” Dean smiled, pulling at his hair a little.  Castiel groaned at him in annoyance, digging his nails into the soft, warm skin of his back.  “God, that guy was such a fucking asshole.”

“We were talking quite a lot,” Castiel amended.  “But yes, he was an asshole.  I wish you’d let me hurt him.”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t be able to go back there if I had.”

“Still.”

Dean chucked into the crook of his neck before kissing him again, sending shivers down his spine.  It wasn't as if Castiel had forgotten they were naked, but he was suddenly very acutely aware of it.  His half hard cock pressed to Dean's hip, sliding against Dean's own heavy length, just the barest hint of teasing pressure.  He gripped at Dean and rocked his hips forward, pulling him closer still.

"Fuck," Dean sighed, pressing a kiss to Castiel's neck.  "You're not... not doing this just to make me feel better," Dean asked quietly, his hand gripping Castiel's hip.  "Right?"

"You underestimate me," Castiel said easily. "And how selfish I am when it comes to you."  His hand threaded in to Dean's hair, pulling him in for a kiss as their bodies rolled lazily together.  He felt Dean’s rough hand trail down his lower back, lightly massaging his tense muscles.  “I want you close to me.  Please,” Castiel continued quietly. 

Dean finally nodded in response, accepting it, pushing up on his elbow and pressing his soft, wet lips to Castiel’s shoulder, drawing a warm trail toward his throat.  Castiel shivered, his breath catching.

"I don't want sex," he admitted.

"Uh," Dean said, inhaling sharply at another roll of hips.  "That's cool.  Okay."

"Just like this," Castiel sighed, running his fingers along Dean's back.  Dean was breathing harder, his breath hot against Castiel’s cheek, leaving a wet trail across Castiel's hip where the tip of his erection touched Castiel's skin.

"Okay," Dean said, voice hardly a whisper.  "Whatever you want."

Castiel lost himself in the feel of Dean’s body against his, the persistent roll of their hips.  The bed dipped at the movement, their bodies warm, pleasure building slowly in Castiel’s stomach and in the heat between his legs.  He was lost to it, the need to be close, the desire to let Dean wrap him up. 

It was overwhelming.  He could drown in the sensation and be happy for it.

Dean pressed his hand to Castiel’s hip, pushing them apart.  Castiel didn’t like it, the loss of contact.  He groaned and tried to pull Dean back to him, kissing his neck, dragging his teeth along the sweat dampened skin.

“Open your legs for me,” Dean said, his voice deep and heady, rolling over him in a wave.  Castiel complied without question, if only for the chance to have Dean against him again.  Dean reached between them, brought his hand to the space between Castiel’s parted thighs, holding him spread.  To Castiel’s surprise, he felt the warm press of Dean’s swollen cock between his legs, dragging along the underside of his balls.

“Oh,” Castiel breathed.  “Okay.”  The heat was nice, the feel of Dean rubbing against him like that a new kind of pleasure.

“Close your legs, baby,” Dean breathed, and Castiel did, feeling Dean’s hand slip out from between them.  Dean moved the hand to his hip, rubbing circles along the skin.  “Tighter... yeah like that."  Dean kissed him, mouth stilling half an inch from Castiel's as he rolled his hips slowly forward.  "Oh shit.  Fuck.  Feels good,” Dean groaned, his forehead pressed to Castiel's cheek.  “This okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, forgetting to breathe when Dean thrust forward harder, the sweat making the movement languid and easy.  It wasn’t enough to get him off, but Dean could come like this.  He wanted Dean to feel good.  Dean sighed happily and kissed him at the edge of his mouth. 

Moving faster, Dean rocked his hips into the space between his thighs.  Castiel’s cock brushed Dean’s stomach, heavy and throbbing, aching to be touched.  Against all odds, the pleasure still built, the warm slide of Dean between his trembling legs, Dean’s stuttering breath loud against the shell of his ear.  He clamped down, pressed his legs harder together, and Dean groaned, fucking forward. 

Dean’s thick hand found its way down to the cleft of Castiel’s ass, pressing a thumb against his hole.  Castiel gasped at the sudden sensation, forgetting for a moment what they were doing, letting his legs go slack.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, rutting against him, circling his hole slowly.  “Please.”

Castiel clamped his leg down again, his arms around Dean’s waist and pulling him forward with every thrust.  Dean’s breathing was erratic, the movement of his hips fevered.  Castiel pressed his mouth to his neck, kissing and sucking the skin to bruise, and Dean groaned.

“I’m close, baby,” Dean said, hardly breathing out the words.

“No,” Castiel replied, voice a little too worn to be commanding.  “Not like this.  Get on your back.”

“What?” Dean asked, a small whine in the back of his throat when his hips knocked against Castiel’s.  Then he shook his head, pulling himself from Castiel and rolling onto his back.  Castiel wasted no time in climbing on top of him, straddling his hips and rubbing them together. 

“What do you want?” Dean breathed.  “Tell me."

Castiel didn’t answer, instead reaching between them to grasp both of their cocks in his hand.  The pressure was sublime; it made him ache, the heat and the slick, sweat and beads of arousal.  Dean stared up at him wide-eyed.  Castiel liked that he could see Dean now, his lips, wet and swollen pink, the green of his eyes, muddied with arousal.  His chest shook as Castiel tugged them together, running the tip of his thumb over the sensitive tips.

“I never,” Castiel gasped, the sensation making it hard to focus, hard to speak.  “I never wanted before you.  Did you know that?”  Dean’s eyes only widened, mouth parted.  His cheeks were flushed pink, his hair a mess.  He was beautiful.  Castiel pumped their cocks together, his own pleasure still muted but Dean alive in his hand, twitching eagerly. 

“I didn’t, it’s just you,” Castiel told him.

“Why?” Dean gasped.  “Fuck, Cas, don’t stop,” he pleaded, bucking his hips into Castiel’s fist. 

“Never,” Castiel said, reaching forward with his free hand and finding Dean’s, lacing their fingers together.  “I never loved anyone the way I love you.  It wasn’t... oh,” Castiel sighed, shaking, feeling closer to the edge than he’d anticipated.  “You... you worried for me.  You cared.  You were so, so warm and you didn’t have to be.”

“’Course I did,” Dean smiled, even as his eyes glazed over, his chest shaking.  “Cas, I... Cas, fuck I’m –“

Dean’s whole body tensed, his cock shuddered and pulsed in Castiel’s hand, warmth dripping between his fingers.  Castiel pumped them together a few more times before he felt his own orgasm hit him, slow but intense, like it started at the base of his toes and worked its way up.  He curled forward, chest shaking, gripping Dean’s hand as the aftershock of his pleasure rolled through him. 

He might have sighed Dean’s name.  Dean might have kissed him for it.  They fell together like that, the mess warm and sticky between their stomachs.  Dean ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair and kissed him, over and over, every place he could reach. 

“Thank you,” Castiel said against Dean’s collarbone.  “Thank you for wanting to take care of me.”

Dean laughed at that, nudging his face until Castiel turned, meeting his lips.  They kissed for a moment, and Castiel could feel Dean’s smile, and it was perfect.

“It’s what we do,” Dean said against his mouth. 

Castiel leaned into Dean, wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in the crook of his neck. If anything were true, it was that. They were both so completely lost in this, but it made Castiel sure that they'd be alright. 

Castiel finally moved, cleaning them both with his discarded tee before pulling Dean back to him. They wrapped themselves up in one another, limbs tangled and sharing air. He eventually fell asleep with the sound of Dean breathing against his ear, the thrum of his heartbeat against his palm.

\--

Dean woke to the alarm on his phone.  He reached over, thumbing it off and tossing it to the floor for good measure.  The light was harsh, cutting through the spaces between his curtains.  He blinked against it, rolling back toward the other side of the bed. 

The space beside him was empty.  He sighed and pushed himself slowly off the mattress, stumbling at little as he collected his clothes. 

Once Dean was dressed, he left the room.  The first thing he heard once in the hallway was the familiar sound of Jess’ guitar playing, and a low sound that might have been a voice.  Moving quietly toward the living room, the voices got louder. He felt himself grinning before he even rounded the corner, his shoulder pressed to the wall of the entryway.

Cas was next to Jess on the couch, his hair a mess and wearing Dean’s shirt with his pajama pants.  He smiled softly at the girl beside him, and she smiled back, her fingers working deftly over the strings of her guitar.  The tune was soft and familiar, and when she sang along, her voice was quiet and sweet. 

 _“_ _Well the sun is surely sinking down, but the moon is slowly rising.  So this old world must still be spinning round and I still love you.”_

When Cas joined in, Dean felt something tug at him, right at the core.  This was something new.  Cas had always loved music, as an escape, as a method.  These days, though... he just enjoyed it.  Jess playing while they sang, one of his rare smiles pulling at his lips.  His eyes bright. 

It was finally something he did because it made him happy.

Cas turned his head to look at Dean, his eyes soft, mouth still moving around the lyrics.  Dean smiled at him, his arms over his chest.  He’d be almost embarrassed to admit how much he loved Cas in that moment, so open and warm and relaxed.  Like this was exactly where he belonged.

 _“It won't be long before another day, we gonna have a good time.”_ Cas sang, his voice low and soothing, eyes still locked on Dean.   

 _“And no one's gonna take that time away,”_ Dean mouthed back, his heart racing. _“You can stay as long as you like.”_


End file.
